


Bellflower

by PyrophobicDragon



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 17:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19773181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyrophobicDragon/pseuds/PyrophobicDragon
Summary: Heinwald knows a thing or two about love. He's in love with Curran, after all.





	Bellflower

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm a sucker for pining.

Contrary to popular belief, Heinwald did understand love.

He loved his sister Christina. He loved Jakob, her fiance. He loved and he hated his father in equal measures, and from an early age learned how complicated loving an evil person was. And he knew that Christina and Jakob loved him, and he thought maybe his father did sometimes.

He understood that love was a biological response meant to induce selfless behaviors towards others of the same lineage and species. He understood that love made people do foolish things. In his case, it ended up killing his entire family.

He also understood, with one-hundred percent confidence, that he was in love with his best friend Curran.

And, much to his disappointment, it was not the sort of love he held for Christina, or Jakob, or his father. It was the sort of love that made her kneel onto her own sword in front of his headless corpse.

(He also understood that his youth was...rather traumatic. He tried not to dwell on it too much.)

People are transient by nature. Some day, Curran will find a wife, or a better partner, or perhaps he’ll follow the orders of his goddess to a distant land and never return. This little connection they made is not one that would last forever.

When he first remembered that, he had spent the next few days judiciously avoiding Curran. He soon realized that was a foolish move. Curran was surely to leave him one day, but right now, he was still by his side. He ought to savor his presence while he could.

He had hoped that Curran wouldn’t notice his odd behavior. That, too, was a foolish move.

“Hey, Hein.” Curran scooped up a forkful of rice and took a bite. Heinwald looked up from his book, balanced on his lap, and only hummed inquisitively.

“I’ve been meaning to ask...have you been feeling all right, lately?” Curran was looking at his plate. Heinwald frowned, tilting his head curiously.

“I’ve been the same as ever. Why do you ask?”

“Well...I feel like I haven’t seen much of you for the past week or so. And then you came and asked me for dinner, even though you  _ never _ remember to eat.”

“I remember to eat. I just don’t consider it necessary at the time,” Heinwald muttered rebelliously.

“Yeah, yeah, pull the other one.” Curran set down his fork and leaned back in his chair. “And don’t avoid the question.”

“I already answered your question,” Heinwald snapped. “Nothing is out of the ordinary.”

Curran put his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend. It’s our job to look out for unusual behaviors, you know.”

Heinwald softened a little. That much was true. “...Perhaps your incessant need to pester me about eating has annoyed me enough to become a constant mental refrain around mealtimes.”

Curran chuckled. “So, you’re telling me that it’s working? I should start nagging you about sleeping too.”

“Please do not,” Heinwald muttered. Then he paused, and amended, “Actually, perhaps you should. You won’t be around forever, after all.”

Curran had picked up his fork again, only to set it down with a heavy  _ clank. _ “Now, what the hell is THAT supposed to mean?”

He appeared...angry? Offended, perhaps? Heinwald squinted at him. “...It is foolish to assume that the status quo will last forever. You are an inquisitor, after all, and you are beholden to your Goddess. It is not unreasonable to assume that you will be called away on a mission and lose contact.” Curran was silent, and Heinwald decided to ask, “How long do you plan on being my companion?”

“...Most normal people don’t put time limits on friendship, Hein.” He sounded both exasperated and subdued.

“I am not saying that I wish for our partnership to end on a certain date. In fact, quite the opposite. I only wish to know if you have any future plans that would result in a departure.” Underneath the table, he ran a thumb over the corner of the book in his lap.

“Aw. Is that’s what’s been on your mind lately?” Heinwald twitched a little bit. Curran hit the nail on the head. Curran continued, “How’s this. I plan on being your partner for as long as possible, okay?” Curran narrowed his eyes at him. “And even if I do have to leave for a mission or whatever, I know where you fucking live. So it’s not like it’s gonna be impossible for us to find each other if we separate.”

A fair consideration. But...“That is how you will find me. How will I find you?”

Curran chuckled. “I’m an inquisitor. Come to any church and ask them to send me a message. They’ll find me, one way or another.”

At that point, Curran’s cat meowed and jumped up onto his lap. He gave it an absentminded pet. Then he suddenly laughed. “I just realized something. You’re exactly like the cat, aren’t you? You act like you’re so aloof and above all human emotion, but you like hanging out with me.”

Heinwald and the cat eyed each other. Then, with no ability to deny such a truthful accusation, Heinwald picked up his fork and muttered, “...Meow.”

Curran roared with laughter and Heinwald felt a little spark of pleasure. After he finished laughing, Curran reached across the table and mimed petting Heinwald’s head. “You’re cute.”

Heinwald dropped his eyes to his plate. The spark turned into a jolting ache in his chest.

***

When Curran mentioned that he could be found by speaking to any Church, Heinwald remembered visiting the inquisitor’s barracks.

“Barracks” was a very generous term for what was essentially a basement room with bedrolls and chests stacked against the walls. He remembered following Curran down there and waiting by the door as Curran packed his bag full of substandard but free supplies. Despite the fact that the inquisitors had (in his opinion) the second-most difficult and dangerous job in whole Curch system, their budget and subsequent welfare was seriously lacking due to the unglamourous, controversial nature of their work.

He remembered seeing an older inquisitor with neatly groomed white hair and a faded uniform of the same color and style as Curran's sitting on one of the bedrolls, wrapping his stump of a leg in cloth bandages.

Perhaps a more generous person, a kinder person, a Churchgoer could have would have donated massive amounts of money requesting that all the funding be set aside specifically for the Inquisitor program.

But he was selfish atheist who didn’t care about those other inquisitors. He only cared about Curran.

As soon as he had a few days off, he set off for his estate alone.

He left his horse at the stables and walked to town. When he entered the courthouse, the secretary looked up. “Have you arrested someone else, my lord?” He was, as always, unsurprised. 

“No, I’m here to make an amendment to my will,” Heinwald replied calmly.

The secretary’s surprise was etched all over his face. “Y-yes sir. I’ll go see if the Justice is free.”

“I will be waiting,” he said serenely.

In a few minutes, the secretary called him in. He entered the Justice’s office and sat down across from her. 

The Justice eyed him dubiously. “I hear you are here to make an amendment to your will…?”

He nodded. “I would like the estate and all of my belongings and wealth to pass to an inquisitor named Curran of Moloney.”

Was it possible for someone to look both surprised and unsurprised at the same time? Curran was famous in town for being Heinwald’s partner, assistant, and companion. He was often seen at the bar after they argue, or accompanying Heinwald to the guard barrack and the Hall of Justice after an arrest. It was perhaps a surprise that Heinwald was going to change the will template that nearly all of the von Arzt clan had used, which decreed that the estate would pass to the “next of kin” according to a very extensive list of rules, but it must not be a surprise that he was asking for his estate to pass to Curran.

Finally, the Justice said, “...Well. We can certainly do that.”

Heinwald swore that he was sound of mind and body, and signed the papers and watched the Justice and the secretary sign the witness papers. Then he politely thanked the two of them and returned to the manor for his horse.

Then he headed to the castle, satisfied with the end of his errand.

***

Upon his return, he sought out the company of Curran. The man was cleaning his axe.

“Hey, Hein. Where’d you disappear off to?” is what Curran greeted him with.

“I went back to my estate and made you the inheritor,” Heinwald told him.

Curran dropped the bottle of mineral oil he was holding. His head snapped up and he stared at Heinwald. “What!?”

“You will receive the estate and the contents of my coffers when I inevitably die early,” Heinwald said cheerfully.

“When you inevitably--Heinwald, partner, if you die on a case, you better plan on us dying together,” Curran snapped.

Heinwald stared down at him. “Well, I was not planning on dying on a case, as we are too adept for that. I was thinking more along the lines of if I die in battle, or perhaps if whatever causes my...unusual coloration turns deadly, or if I get murdered during a robbery, or--”

“Don’t!” Curran shouted. Heinwald fell silent, watching as he ran a hand through his hair. Curran took a deep breath and growled, “Don’t--don’t talk about you ‘dying early’ as an inevitability. For all you know, we’re gonna...I don’t know. Retire, and solve crimes from our armchairs.”

That sounded quite pleasant. “That sounds quite pleasant. In return for your continued company, your family is, of course, welcome to live at my manor as well.”

Curran gave him a puzzled look. “My...family?”

“Indeed.” Heinwald rubbed at his sternum with the heel of his palm. “You will likely have a wife and children at that point in your life. As I am going to die childless, your children will inherit the estate from you.”

“You…” Curran shook his head. “You crazy bastard. What makes you think I’m gonna get married and have kids?”

“You are compassionate, intelligent, strong, and brave. You are kind and caring, and would make a wonderful father and husband. Any woman who does not love you is a fool,” Heinwald told him matter-of-factly.

Curran laughed and laughed and laughed. But after a while his laughter trailed off and he began to redden. “You...you aren’t kidding, huh? It’s...it’s really flattering hearing that from you. You’re the most honest person I know.”

“I wouldn’t ‘kid’ about such matters. It is the truth, or the truth from where I see it.” And it was.

“...Thanks.” Curran said, so quietly that Heinwald almost missed it. Then he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, if I’m gonna have kids in this imaginary scenario...they better like their Uncle Heinwald. Because you’re gonna be sticking around to help me raise them.”

Uncle Heinwald? He considered the concept, examining it from all angles. On one hand, it would be...bothersome, living under the same roof as Curran and his wife, because Heinwald is not a normal person and he knows he will still be in love with Curran until his dying day. But on the other hand...He would be glad of the chance to spend more years in Curran’s company. 

Yes, he would be willing to play the part of the eccentric uncle, no matter how much it hurt to be so close yet so far. “I am not one for children. But yours...I believe yours will be tolerable.” Because they will be part Curran.

Curran, of course, was oblivious to his thoughts. “Sooo, you basically agreed to help me change diapers,” he grinned.

Heinwald made a face, falling back into their familiar push-and-pull rhythm. “Perish the thought. The nursemaid will do that.”

“Of course you want to hire a nursemaid.”

“No, no, no. I will conjure one up.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

***

After the competition-turned-friendship(?)-wedding, Heinwald left the seat he was assigned to go take a seat at one of the dinner tables for the reception. He had not wanted to attend, but he decided to come along to help keep Curran on track, after the apparent disaster of a speech he gave during rehearsal.

He slipped the small signs he had made into his pocket. He hadn’t needed to use them, since the competition ended up as one ceremony instead, and Ricard ended up giving the bulk of the vows. He was a little disappointed he didn’t get a chance to see Curran make a fool of himself.

Mym slipped into the seat across from him, beaming. “That was a beautiful ceremony!” she chirruped happily.

“Is it because you’re just happy that you didn’t have to see Euden getting married?” Luca asked from further down the table.

“Of course! Who wouldn’t be upset at the thought of their darling getting married?” Mym scowled, as if the thought itself was abhorrent.

Heinwald frowned. Was he upset at the thought of Curran getting married? Not really. Unlike Mym, he was realistic about his chances of gaining Curran’s love. But his chest did hurt as he said, “One would think that, if one cared sufficiently about their ‘darling’, they would not mind them getting married as long as they are happy--or happier--with another."

Mym rolled her eyes. “Oh, you. You truly don't understand love one bit! How can you guarantee your love’s happiness with another? Yes, they may be happy at the wedding...but there’s no knowing if their spouse makes them happy later down the line unless that spouse is you!”

“I would err on the side of trusting the one you love to know who and what makes them truly happy. A relationship without trust is doomed.” He’s seen it many times. Both in cases and in his own family life.

Mym straightened up, eyes flashing as she prepared a rebuttal. Cleo, seeing a potential disaster on their hands, quickly changed the subject. “Um, Curran did a pretty good job as the officiant, don’t you think?”

Murmurs of surprised agreement all around. Heinwald inclined his head in acknowledgement.

Luca leaned over, craning his neck to look at Heinwald. “So, you think you’re going to ask Curran to officiate for you if you ever get hitched?”

Heinwald shook his head. “Likely not. Not because of his lack of ability, but because given the fact that less than two percent of men are attracted to other men, even discarding other factors such as my personality and alleged inability to love, I’ve always known that I was statistically likely to die alone.”

All chatter abruptly stopped. Everyone between him and Luca was staring at him

He stared back at them. Then he looked around for Curran to bail him out.

Curran was standing a few feet away behind him, carrying two plates of food. He was also staring.

“Well, you are being no help,” Heinwald muttered in his direction. Then he sighed. “Excuse me. I need to go...polish my frog.”

He quickly extracted himself from the chair and went upstairs. He didn’t need to eat anyways.

In his room, he examined his three-legged frog jar. It was in need of a bit of polish, and he took a soft cloth and began rubbing it with vigor while considering the conundrum he had left behind.

The other adventurers had seemed shocked, but that was their usual reaction whenever Heinwald said basically anything. What was alarming to him was Curran’s reaction. His partner was pleasingly adept at understanding Heinwald's brutally honest nature.

The others could stare at him as much as they wanted, but he had thought that Curran would understand and agree with what he was talking about. But last week, he had been rather displeased when discussing his death, hadn’t he? Oh dear. Perhaps he had offended him by bringing that up again.

There was the ache in his ribcage once again. This time, it seemed to have spread to his little finger, and he flexed it, trying to get rid of the sore sensation. Given that this ache appeared whenever he thought of Curran’s disapproval, or Curran leaving him, or Curran getting married, his hypothesis that this pain was a symptom of love was supported with this new incident.

“Being in love is a horrid thing,” he told the frog in lieu of anyone else to speak to. He gave it a firm polish. “I’d advise against it.”

***

“All right, one last announcement.” Euden looked around and winced at the bored faces he was seeing. “Uh, we’re doing Valentine’s Day and White Day again this year! And Cupid has offered to set up a bit of a postal service. So from now til Valentine’s Day, you can ask him to deliver chocolates and flowers to the person of your choice, which will be dispersed at breakfast on Valentine’s day.”

“Have you ever gotten treats from an event such as this before?” Heinwald asked Curran curiously as Euden started his closing comments, thanking everyone for their continued hard work.

“I’ve gotten them once or twice, back when I was in school. But, y’know, ever since I became an inquisitor, I’ve been a bit of a lone wolf, so no chocolates for me.”

“Hm. Perhaps you’ll get some this year, since we’ve been acquainted with these castle denizens for some time.” Heinwald said, with the accompanying twinge.

Curran turned his upper body to face him, resting his elbow on the back of his chair. “You know, I hate how you always refer to the others as...well, others. We’re a part of their team now, you know.”

Heinwald dipped his head. “I will endeavor to be more self-inclusive in the future.”

“Yeah. Maybe people will be less scared of you then.” He suddenly made a face.

“Unlikely," Heinwald muttered. "What is that look for?”

“I didn’t mean to make it sound like it’s your fault people are scared of you.” 

Curran was far too considerate.

“It is my fault. I have a monstrous appearance and a disregard for social niceties.”

“Your appearance is hardly your fault! And your...wanting manners are...charming...” Curran trailed off.

Heinwald quirked a brow at that, and Curran at least looked chagrined. It was obviously a lie, and they both knew it, thanks to the number of times Curran had scolded him for his 'wanting manners.' “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”

Later that day, Curran poked his head into Heinwald's room.

“I’m going to go spar. Coming with?”

Heinwald deliberately kept his nose in his book. “Mmmrgh.”

Curran chuckled. “All right then. Stay outta trouble.”

Then he was gone.

Heinwald waited five minutes, then dropped his book on the bed facedown. He quickly got out of bed and headed outside.

He skirted around the edges of the training field, trying to keep a distance between himself and the small gaggle of people there. He managed to climb up to the roost where the dragons rested without incident.

He stopped to exchange pleasantries to Nyarlathotep, but that wasn’t his goal for coming here.

Cupid did a happy spin when he saw Heinwald coming up the steps. “Hello, hello! Welcome!”

“I would like to ask you to send chocolates and flowers to someone,” Heinwald told him.

“Of course! Who would you like to send your love to this Valentine’s Day?” Cupid chirped.

“Before I tell you, I have two requests.” Cupid cocked his head curiously, and Heinwald continued, “One, I have a certain bouquet in mind, other than typical flowers. Second...I’d like it to be completely anonymous.”

Cupid’s face fell. “You...don’t you want this person to know you love them?”

“No. Absolutely not. Under no circumstances,” Heinwald said firmly, crossing his arms.

“But...think about how happy they’ll feel to be loved by you!” Cupid cried, wringing his hands.

Heinwald laughed. “Believe me. They will not be happy to hear this from me. I want your word that you will not tell anyone that it was I who asked this of you.”

Cupid mulled it over. Then he said, “Do...do you really believe it will make them happier receiving your gift without knowing it was you?”

“Yes.”

“...Okay, then.”

“Thank you.”

***

Valentine’s Day found Heinwald once again lying in bed with a book.

Curran opened the door and made a face. “Aw, c’mon. You’re not even dressed yet? It’s breakfast time!”

“I’m reading,” Heinwald muttered.

He heard a heavy sigh. “Fine. But if you’re not down in half an hour, I’m dragging you down there by your stupid ponytail.”

Heinwald only grunted. When he heard the door close, he set aside his book.

He took his time getting dressed. By the time he had meandered his way downstairs, he was half an hour late for breakfast.

Or, more relevantly, half an hour late for gift delivery.

Some of the people had piles of presents. Some only had one or two. All around the table, people were chatting happily, thanking each other for chocolates and flowers. Louise was giving Lowen a big hug, holding a box of chocolates with a big smile on her face. Euden was inundated with flowers, both gestures of friendship and appreciation and enormous displays of affection.

Heinwald sat down next to Curran. The inquisitor was staring at the lavender box and the bouquet of flowers on the table in front of him. Heinwald glanced over and said mildly, “I see you’ve received something this year.”

“I...it has to be a joke, right? Or maybe a wrong delivery…”

Curran’s plate was untouched. He had apparently been sitting here in a state of shock for the last half hour. “Eat your breakfast. It’s likely cold by now.” Heinwald waited until Curran picked up his fork. Then he continued, “Given that it is not a bunch of roses, it appears as though whoever sent it put much thought into the flower arrangement, which implies that it is not a simple prank. And I doubt Cupid, who cares very much for this holiday, would make a mistake in delivery.”

Curran scooped up a bite of eggs and put it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. Then he set down his fork and reached out to gently rub a petal.

White  _ Narcissus Poeticus  _ wrapped in a type of  _ Hedera _ Heinwald couldn’t identify by sight. From the top side,  _ Amaranthus caudatus  _ waterfalled out. The bouquet blended in among the other red, pinks, and whites of the table, but it held a much deeper meaning than all the rest.

Narcissus for unrequited love. Ivy for dependence and faithfulness. Love-lies-bleeding for hopelessness.

Perhaps it was a bit of a depressing bouquet. But it was certainly pretty.

He had planned not to give flowers, but he knew Curran liked candy. He brought home a small box whenever he bought something from the general store, and they often split the box over a drink. Curran liked candy, Curran deserved nice surprises; Heinwald had decided to take advantage of this holiday to provide something anonymously. The flowers were mostly for his own sake. A riskless way to express his feelings. Like a coward.

“Why not roses…?” Curran said out loud.

Heinwald did not look over at him this time. He pulled his book out of his coat pocket and held it open in one hand, snatching a piece of toast from Curran’s plate with the other. “Perhaps it has some sort of meaning to it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Curran straightening up suddenly. “Hey, don’t you know flower symbolism? You used it during that one case. Can you tell me what it means?”

He had hoped Curran had forgotten about that. He glanced over at Curran and laughed. “Perhaps it would be more exciting for you to do your own research for once.”

Curran scowled at him. “So it’s something insulting, right? If you’re refusing to tell me, that’s probably a bad thing.”

“No, no, it’s nothing insulting,” Heinwald assured him. “It’s...well. You ought to find out for yourself.” If he had to say it out loud, he would give away the game.

“Urgh.” Curran cast a glare at him, but, seemingly accepting that these gifts were, in fact, for him, opened up the box of chocolates. “Want one?”

Heinwald looked at him blankly. “They are for you.”

“Yeah. They’re mine to do with as I please. And I want to share them with you.” Curran shoved the box closer to him. 

Ignoring the sudden acceleration of his heart and the twinge in his palm, Heinwald accepted the candy and put it in his mouth. Feeling the smooth chocolate melt on his tongue, he mumbled, “These are...acceptable.”

“Hah. You like them, huh?” Curran grinned at him. Then his grin faded. And he said, almost sadly, “You didn’t get any.”

Heinwald couldn’t help the forceful push of laughter. “Haha. Who would want to send me chocolates?”

He gestured at himself. “I am a rude, unsociable, bizzare, untrustworthy freak with the appearance to match who is incapable of giving anyone my love. I would be more alarmed if someone were to give me gifts on Valentine’s Day.”

Curran’s frown was thunderous. “C’mon. None of that is true, partner.”

Heinwald raised a brow at him and gestured at the table. “The evidence to the contrary is right before your eyes. Or rather, not.”

Curran frowned at the table and didn’t reply.

He was still frowning after breakfast when he took his flowers and his box of chocolates to his bedroom. And he was still frowning when he met back up with Heinwald. In fact, he frowned all day, during all of their activities, right up until they went to Heinwald’s room for a nightcap.

Heinwald poured Curran some wine. “Are you still upset at the fact that no one sent me chocolates?”

Curran made a face. “Yeah. Maybe a little.”

“You shouldn’t be. As I told you, I did not expect to receive anything from anyone.” Curran really was too kind to be putting up with him.

“Yeah.” Curran said absently. Then he rubbed the back of his head. “I also feel kinda bad for whoever sent me gifts.”

“Why?”

“I mean...I don’t think I can return her affections. So I feel sorry that she put so much effort into making that pretty bouquet for a guy like me.”

This was news to him. “You cannot return…?”

Curran sighed and took a sip of wine. “Yeah. Because…” he hesitated, then suddenly asked, “Do you remember when we were talking about retirement? How you thought I would have a family at that point?”

Heinwald nodded.

“Well...a family was never in my plans. I always thought I would die in the line of duty at some point. And I don’t want to leave a poor family behind. And…” he trailed off. After a moment, he rallied himself and looked at Heinwald in the eye.

“And I doubt I would have a wife. I’ve only ever been attracted to one person, and he was...is a man. I didn’t tell you, or redirect you at the time because...I dunno. I didn’t want you to look at me differently, or anything, and you seemed very hopeful for my future.”

Now  _ this _ was news to Heinwald. Before he could dwell too long on his own reaction, he decided to put that energy into reassuring Curran of his unspoken fear first. “The fact that you are attracted to men does not influence my opinion of you at all. In fact, my point still stands--you can have your choice of anyone in the world, regardless of gender.”

Curran muttered into his glass, “Hah. That’s obviously false. The evidence to the contrary is right before your eyes.”

Heinwald blinked. Surely he misheard him. “Pardon?”

Curran was avoiding his gaze. “I...fuck.” He took a big gulp of his wine. “Ah, fuck fuck fuck  _ fuck _ it.” His eyes dart up to meet Heinwald’s, only to drop again. He was starting to flush. “Fuck. I’m in love with someone.”

_ “What?”  _

Curran sighed and set down his glass. He toyed with the stem for a long while. Then he said, “I’m in love with someone. And he doesn’t and could never love me back.” His voice was low but sure.

Heinwald stared at him. It was almost inconceivable that some fool could have the affections of the best man he’s ever known and not immediately fall in love with him. “Preposterous.”

“Yeah. I’m an idiot for falling in love with someone like him.” Curran ran a hand through his hair. Then he grimaced and dabbed at his eye with the back of his hand. “Ah, fuck, sorry. You know how alcohol gets me sometimes.”

They both ignore the fact that he’s only had a glass of wine.

Heinwald picked up his own untouched glass and gripped it with both hands to keep his hands busy and off of Curran. This...whatever was happening right this moment, he had no idea how to handle. He wasn’t even making grammatical sense in his own head. Finally, he offered, “You know...there are a few charms and spells that are purported to increase romantic affection.”

Curran grimaced again. “No, those are hella skeevy. And even if one did work in a relatively wholesome manner, it would be a hollow victory.” He sighed and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. “It’s fine. I know it’s stupid. He just doesn’t get love.” He drained his glass and Heinwald had to look down at his own lap to prevent himself from taking in the sight of his laryngeal prominence bobbing. 

“Give it time,” he advised. “Humans seek novelty. Most people will eventually fall out of love if there is nothing to sustain interest.”

Curran scoffed. “Yeah, not likely.” Before Heinwald could again press and ask what he meant, he sighed and said, “You know what, let’s just drink.”

Heinwald quietly poured him another glass.

They emptied the bottle and another. Then Curran ended up falling asleep, fully clothed, in his bed.

This was not an unusual occurrence. They had slept in the same bed before accidentally or by necessity. Any potential awkwardness that could come between them had long since fizzled out, and neither of them had any problem sharing a bed with a close friend. So Heinwald did not hesitate to remove Curran’s shoes and belts and jacket, change into his own pajamas, and crawl into bed next to him.

He cuddled up with his back against Curran’s solid chest, feeling it rise and fall and hearing the sound of his even breathing in his ear. His confusion from earlier had been replaced with abject fury. This man had Curran’s affections and willingly chose to forsake them. Curran had cried over this man. He was causing him pain and sorrow. 

Was it possible to hate someone who you’ve only heard the briefest mention of less than a few hours ago? Evidence suggested yes.

He briefly entertained the thought of offering himself up as a means of distraction. He discarded that pathetic notion almost immediately. He was a poor consolation prize for anyone and an inadequate one for a man such as Curran.

It would be, as Curran said, a hollow victory.

He woke up the next morning with a headache and a too-warm inquisitor still plastered against his disgustingly sweaty back. He began to (reluctantly) try and wiggle out of his grip.

The arms around him tighten briefly, then let go. 

Freed from his prison, he sat up and looked down at Curran. He looked up at him, blinked a few times, then lowered his gaze. 

“Sorry about last night. I wasn’t very good company,” he mumbled.

“It is...fine.” He cringed at how awkward he sounded. But he had no idea how else to comfort.

Curran slowly sat up. His shirt was lopsided, revealing more of his left pectoral muscle and exposing his nipple. For some reason, this disheveled look was as appealing as when he’s seen him partially or fully nude. Heinwald looked away until Curran readjusted his shirt to sit normally on his chest.

He started when he felt warm fingers touching the hair next to his ear. “Your hair’s a mess,” Curran murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It often is,” Heinwald agreed noncommittally. “You’ve seen it as such before.”

The fingers draw away as if burnt, and Heinwald regretted what he said, though he cannot tell how his words offended. After a long moment, Curran sighed. “Give me your hairbrush. I’ll help you fix it.”

_ Yes, please. _

He demured, “If you’d like to,” and reached for the bedside table. 

He passed Curran his hairbrush. Soon, he felt the brush and fingers running through his hair, detangling knots much more gently than he usually does. He shut his eyes and tried to suppress the shiver that ran through his body. He had allowed Curran to touch his hair many times before. Curran seemed to enjoy touching it and styling it, though he doesn’t quite know why. It was always a peaceful, intimate moment. One that he was reluctant to disturb.

Curran said, “You’ve had this hairbrush a long time.”

He opened his eyes and stared into the room. “Yes. You can see the cracks in the wood. I was...having troubles when I purchased it in an attempt to take care of myself better. Yet I bought the cheapest brush I could find, because I still wasn’t convinced I was worth better.”

“Oh. I don’t think you’ve ever told me that.” The brush dragged down the length of his hair, the rough bristles tickling his scalp then down his spine. “You should buy a better hairbrush. You...your hair deserves it.”

He set down the hairbrush and began to part his hair in three. 

Heinwald remembered that he should reply. “...Perhaps I should.” He hesitated, than said, “I find myself rationing stories. Part of me wishes to lay bare my whole history. Another part fears that a solved mystery ceases to be interesting.”

“You should. Get a new one, that is,” Curran insisted. ‘If not, I’ll buy you one.” One part over, another part over, another part over...a soothing rhythm. “People aren’t mysteries, Heinwald. I’m not friends with you because I want to know what makes you tick. I’m friends with you because…because even if you run out of stories to tell, I want to hear you tell the same ones over and over.”

Then his hands let go of his hair. Heinwald shook his head back and forth, feeling the braid swing against his back in time. He reached back and patted it. As always, it was neat, with minimal flyaway hairs. 

“Thank you,” he said. Inadequate.

Curran patted his back. “...Right. You’re welcome. Let me do my prayers and we’ll get breakfast.”

***

A week passed. Then another. Then another. Nothing really changed. They went on missions, they ate meals together, they researched and read and solved a mystery or two and talked and drank together and sometimes they did those things apart.

Along the way, Curran discovered what the flowers meant. “By the Goddess, I feel really bad about being unable to return their feelings,” he said with a frown.

Heinwald had hummed noncommittally in response. He regretted sending those flowers without thinking his actions through. Curran was already suffering from love. It was cruel for Heinwald to burden him with his own feelings, even anonymously.

But over time, Curran seemed to have forgotten about the flowers from Valentine’s Day, for which Heinwald was grateful.

The day before White Day, they departed on a mission along with Ieyasu and Botan. It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission.

It did not go so well.

They all made it out alive, at least. But the ride back home was tense and silent. Botan had attempted to speak several times, but she had long since given up by the time they reached the castle.

Euden and his crew came out to greet them. He took one look at the party and asked, “What happened?”

Neither he nor Curran answered. As soon as the horse stopped, Heinwald slid down off the horse and walked away. Behind him, he could hear Botan saying, “They gave each other the silent treatment on the way home...it’s that bad.”

“Curran got isolated during the battle, and Heinwald broke away to go help him. Curran is upset about that, for he believes that Heinwald should have stayed with me and Botan…” Ieyasu’s calm, even voice faded into the distance.

Heinwald stewed in his room until dinnertime. He wasn’t planning on eating, but then came the knock on his door.

When he opened it, he was surprised to see Curran there, looking down at the floor behind Heinwald. Curran never knocked. 

They were both silent for a minute. Then Curran grunted, “Let’s go. Dinner.”

“Are we going to make a scene?” Heinwald asked quietly.

A one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah. Probably.”

“Would you prefer to do it in private?” he offered.

Curran finally looked at him. His face was flushed in anger. “I know that we’re going to yell at each other a lot, and I know that afterwards we’re going to storm off and avoid each other and I’d prefer for you to eat before we start shouting so that way I don’t have to worry about you passing out from low blood sugar and add that to the list of things to yell at you about.”

“A fair consideration. Though it only happened--”

Curran held up a hand. “Save it for after dinner.” And he turned and walked down the hall.

Heinwald followed him.

Dinner was...tense. Everyone was trying to be very quiet, even when asking for things on the other side of the table. The only sound in the normally-rambunctious dining hall was the scraping of silverware against the plates. Perhaps a normal person would feel bad about being the cause of such heavy silence. But he didn’t care.

Curran finished his meal first. He sat there, glaring daggers into the table, until Heinwald finished his plate. When Heinwald got up to put both their plates in the kitchen, he followed.

Heinwald dropped their dishes in the kitchen sink with a dull clunk as Curran shut the door behind them. He turned around to face Curran, crossing his arms. “Very well then. Let’s fight.”

Curran opened up with a low, “You shouldn’t have broken away.”

“It was the best course of action. You were in danger, I went to you and healed you,” Heinwald rebutted calmly.

“I’m the tank. I’m supposed to take a hit or two. I would’ve been  _ fine _ waiting for  _ two more seconds. _ ”

“Against an army of fiends? That wouldn’t have been a ‘hit or two.’” 

“An army of fiends you fucking  _ ran through! _ Are you fucking suicidal or something?!”

“You’re accusing me of being suicidal, you self-sacrificing cretin? You were in  _ danger _ , it was  _ practicality, _ it’s my  _ duty _ to prevent you from dying!”

“It’s hardly practical if our damn healer gets one-shot! I was fine, but if you fucking died, then the rest of us would have fucking died too because you’re our Goddess-damned healer, you idiot!”

“I didn’t die. It was a calculated risk that paid off.”

“A calculated risk--Heinwald! You fucking scared the shit out of everyone else! Didn’t you hear Botan and Ieyasu panicking, you heartless bastard!”

“You’re calling me heartless? You of all people should understand--”

“Well I find myself sincerly doubting that right now after the stunt you fucking pulled today!”

“Pah, heartless! Your definition of heartless is lacking. Would someone heartless be willing to give everything for the one they…”

His jaw clamped shut so quickly it hurt his teeth. He shouldered past Curran and walked out of the kitchen.

“Where the hell do you think--” Heinwald slammed the wooden door shut in his face.

When he turned around, the whole castle was staring at him.

He walked out the door to the dining hall.

As soon as he cleared line of sight, he broke into a run.

Of course, as unathletic as he was, he was only able to run through the foyer into the courtyard. There he jogged over to the stables and unhitched their grey horse. He mounts the horse with some difficulty and rode out of the courtyard gates.

It would be a long, quiet ride back to his mansion.

***

By the time he arrived at his mansion, he had...some regrets.

Leaving so abruptly would raise questions. And Curran was not a stupid man. No doubt he would be able to deduce what Heinwald was about to say, and if he failed, then everyone else in the dining room had also heard their argument and would no doubt draw their own conclusions.

Even after several hours of riding in the dark, he was still no closer to any solution to his accidental almost-confession. Well, he did have a solution: apologize and never mention it again. What he was uncertain about is if it would actually fix anything.

He knew Curran better than anyone. He was as dogged as Heinwald was in the pursuit. He wouldn’t do him the favor of pretending nothing had happened, he would keep on probing and prodding until he was satisfied he knew the full extent of Heinwald’s inconvenient feelings. And then?

Well. He didn’t think Curran would leave. He was far too loyal for that. But it would break their close camaraderie, the friendship that he found himself relying on far too much over the past few years.

Curran would not be comfortable sharing a bed with him anymore. He wouldn’t brush his hair. He wouldn’t come to him after a rough night and fall asleep with his head on his lap. He would do a good job of pretending to not be bothered, but Heinwald would feel the differences.

Everything is transient. Was it foolish to mourn an ending to a blessing he didn’t deserve?

“Ah, fuck it,” he said out loud. He went upstairs to get spectacularly drunk in his office instead of dealing with his problems.

He fell asleep in his office chair after raiding his drinks cabinet and woke up with a horrible hangover, a sore neck, and the knowledge that someone had entered the house.

He closed his eyes again and burrowed deeper into his coat. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, Curran would leave him alone. He was always going on about how Heinwald should sleep more.

His ears pricked up as heavy footsteps approach. Then the door opened.

Curran approached the desk. There was a quiet scrape as he picked up one of the bottles, then a clink as he set it back down.

Then he shook Heinwald’s shoulder, none too gently. “Hey. Wake up.”

Heinwald raised his head and squinted at Curran. He was very blurry without glasses. “Good morning.”

“It’s, like, two in the afternoon.”

“Time is relative,” Heinwald replied, resting his cheek back down on his knee and closing his eye again.

“No it’s not. Stop being obtuse.” He gave him another firm shake. “C’mon. We need to talk.”

As predicted. “Must we?” Heinwald whined.

“Yeah. Put on your glasses,” Curran said. As if to underscore his determination, he sat down on the edge of the desk in front of him and crossed his arms.

Heinwald lifted his head and squinted at the room, a watercolor of browns and purples and reds. Curran’s white shirt and blond hair stood out in stark contrast to his surroundings. “...To be honest, I have no idea where I put my glasses.”

“Are you still drunk or something? They’re hanging off your frill.” Curran pointed to his shirt. His tone was not nearly as rough as his words. In deference to Heinwald’s horrid hangover? Unlikely. Curran had no qualms about teasing him when he overindulged. Perhaps a prequel to the way things will change. 

Heinwald groped around his chest. Sure enough, he had folded up his glasses and tucked them into his collar. He put them on and looked up at Curran, then began, “I must apologize--”

“Nope. No, shut up. Take these.” And Curran shoved a colorful box and a fistful of purple bellflowers into his lap.

Heinwald looked down at the flowers. He wondered if Curran really knew what they meant. He opened up the box and looked at the neat rows of rectangular chocolates. Then he looked back up at Curran.

Who ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry about the flowers. I ended up just...picking them from the side of the road. But I was in a rush, and Cupid told me...” he trailed off.

That...did very little to elaborate the situation. He lifted up the box and shook it at Curran as inquiringly as he could.

Curran...flushed. He looked away, but looked back a second later. “It’s White Day today. And you...you gave me something for Valentine’s.”

Ohh. So he managed to deduce it after all. Whether it was the kitchen incident or something else that clued him in he wasn't sure. Heinwald’s fingers tightened involuntarily on the box. “Ah. Thank you for the chocolates, but I’m sorry about that as well--”

“No. It’s not out of obligation. It’s because I love you too.” No hesitation. No rush. Just a solid statement of fact.

Heinwald stared at him.

The blush was getting redder and redder by the moment. “I honestly believed...that you were incapable of loving people. In the way that I love you. So I never...I never thought to do anything. About it.”

Finally, Heinwald found something to say. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have.”

“What?! Heinwald--” Curran’s voice was filled with shock and betrayal in equal measures.

Heinwald didn’t look to see if that was reflected on his face. He kept his eyes on the box in his lap. He quietly closed the lid and re-tied the ribbon, positioning the flowers diagonally across the box. Then he said, “Love has not been kind to me in the past.” He lifted his hand and began counting off on his fingers. “My brother-in-law killed my father because he loved me and my sister enough to commit murder. I loved my father and I got my brother-in-law executed for said murder. My sister loved him and she killed herself.” He dropped his hand back into his lap and looked up at Curran. “You will leave one day, and if you insist on loving me, it will inevitably be via a violent manner of my making.”

Curran’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, first of all, we’ve been over this. None of that was your fault. Second of all...are you seriously trying to convince me to...what, stop being in love with you?”

Heinwald nodded. “Even if you don’t believe in my culpability in my family’s deaths, I would make an inadequate lover. You have told me such in the past.” He set the box and the flowers down carefully onto the desk next to Curran. 

Who scowled. “Well, obviously I was wrong! I didn’t know you were in love with me back then.” Then he paused. “Wait...were you in love with me back then?”

Another nod.

“So when I challenged you to solve love...”

“Even with my wealth, I would have never found anyone willing to marry me,” Heinwald told him. “I lied because I thought your shock was funny.”

“Right. I forget you have the world’s worst sense of humor.” Curran rolled his eyes.

“Another reason why you will come to regret falling in love with me.” Heinwald pointed at him and said firmly, “So you should stop that.”

Curran crossed his arms and cocked his head, scowling. “All right, I’ll bite. How do you propose I should do that?”

“I told you before,” Heinwald said quietly, “Give it time. Your love will fade eventually.”

“Well, I know that’s not going to happen.” Heinwald raised a brow at him, and he shook his head. “Here, tell me--why’d you get me candy for Valentine’s Day?” A leading question. They’ve employed this tactic many times, both to bait witnesses and suspects and to explain to clients what had happened. Heinwald answered truthfully, curious about where Curran was going with this.

“Because you like candy. You buy it and eat it with me.”

Curran smirked triumphantly. “I don’t like candy.”

“...Pardon?”

“I don’t mind it, but I don’t care enough about it to buy it for myself. I buy it and eat it because  _ you _ like it. And I love you, and I like seeing you happy.”

Curran had been buying them candy for at least two years. Heinwald blinked, gobsmacked. “Then...you’ve been in love with me for a very long time.”

“Yeah. And that doesn’t even count the year or so that I was in denial and actively trying not to feed my interest in you in hopes that it would go away. It hasn’t gone away yet.” Curran laughed. “You kept me up for more nights than I’m willing to admit over the years.”

Heinwald remembered the events of Valentine’s Day. Curran crying over the man he was in love with. Himself thinking about what a fool that person must have been to not be equally in love with Curran. And he remembered telling Mym that she should trust whoever she loved to know what would make them happiest. He was so willing to give Curran whatever he needed to be happy and stay close by. As much as he could not understand Curran’s feelings for him, he could hardly deny him anything that may make him happy.

But first, an apology. “I’m sorry. For making you upset. Because you thought I couldn’t love you.”

“You know what? It’s all right. Come here.” Curran opened up his arms. Heinwald stood up from his chair and leaned into the hug. After a moment, Curran said, “You know, this is not how I imagined this confrontation going. I didn’t think you’d try to argue with me and tell me I shouldn’t be in love with you.”

Heinwald turned his face into Curran’s chest, muffling his voice. “Shortsighted of you. We always thoroughly debate every topic. Why would a major change in our relationship be different?” Despite himself, he began to smile.

“Exactly. Why did I ever expect anything different from us?” A brief pause. “So, um, have I persuaded you?”

“Although I am still not convinced that this is not a poor choice on your part” he mumbled, “...I trust you to know what would make you happiest. And if you insist upon me...than I know there is little I can do to change your mind.”

Curran laughed. “Did you just call me stubborn, Mr. Here’s-an-essay-on-why-you-shouldn’t-love-me?”

“Not in so many words, but yes.”

“Are you kidding me? You stretched it out to, like, ten words.” Curran pushed him away, but only out to arm’s reach. He was grinning like an idiot. “You talk too much. So I’m gonna make you shut up.”

A strange statement. Heinwald cocked his brow at him. “How do you plan on--mmph!”

And he melted into the slightly-too-aggressive kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently bellflowers symbolize unwavering love.


End file.
